Take Me Away
by Supervillegirl
Summary: Sam and Dean set off on their latest hunt...themselves.
1. Chapter 1

Take Me Away

Main story set after 5x05 "Fallen Idols"

**2006**

**Cape Girardeau, Missouri**

Sam Winchester waited in the driver's seat of the 1967 black Chevy Impala as his older brother Dean stood by the hood with Cassie Robinson.

"My mother says to tell you thanks again," said Cassie. Dean nodded. "This is a better goodbye than last time."

"Yeah, well, maybe this time it'll be a little less permanent," said Dean.

"You know what?" said Cassie. "I'm a realist. I don't see much hope for us, Dean."

Dean was slightly disappointed. "Well, I've seen stranger things happen. A hell of a lot stranger."

"Goodbye, Dean," said Cassie sadly.

"I'll see ya, Cassie. I will."

They kissed, and then Dean got into the car. Sam waved at Cassie, and she watched the two of them drive away.

"I like her," said Sam.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"You meet someone like her, ever make you wonder if it's worth it?" asked Sam. "Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?"

Dean said nothing, but smiles at Sam. He took a pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment and put them on. "Wake me up when it's my turn to drive."

Dean smiled and slouched down in his seat. Sam smiled and continued to drive.

"Dean, what the hell is that?" asked Sam.

Dena's head shot up as he pulled off his sunglasses and stared out the windshield. The air in front of them shimmered over the road.

"What the hell?" said Dean.

Sam slammed on the brakes, and turned the wheel to avoid it; but it didn't work. The Impala slid through the invisible barrier, screeching to a halt on the road. Sam and Dean looked around, but nothing seemed different. They looked back at the road, but the barrier was gone.

"I reiterate," said Dean. "What the hell?"

"I don't know," said Sam.

Dean's hand suddenly flew to the radio, turning it on. Metallica's "Enter Sandman" blasted out of the speakers, but surprisingly, Dean changed the station. The next one was playing Van Halen's "Humans Being," but Dean skipped that one, too. The next station was playing ACDC's "Thunderstruck," but Dean just flipped to the next one.

"Come on, come on," Dean muttered.

Sam frowned at Dean, confused as to why he was passing up all his favorite songs. The next station was playing Foreigner's "Head Games," and Dean skipped that one, too. The next station was giving a report, and Dean stopped, listening intently.

"You gave up your favorite songs for a talk show?" Sam asked.

"Shut up," Dean told him, trying to listen.

It was a news report. "Mass rioting has broken out in Los Angeles, New York City, Washington DC, San Francisco, St. Louis and Miami. President Obama states that he may be forced to used armed guard to hold back the crowds. That's all for national news. What do we have for weather?"

A different voice began to speak. "Well, we are in luck. Today is going to be a wonderful October 9, 2009. We're gonna be—"

"2009?" said Sam, jaw dropping.

"Don't tell me that was some kind of time barrier," said Dean.

"Looks like," said Sam. He looked at Dean. "What do we do now?"

Dean shook his head. "Motel, I guess."

**Sorry it's so short. the rest will be better.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Dean and Sam hadn't found much as to why they had suddenly found themselves almost four years into the future, but they needed to start investigating locally to see if anyone else had run into similar problems with that barrier. They entered a comic book shop dressed in suits and black jackets.

An overweight, bald man with glasses sat behind the counter. He frowned at them as they approached. "You guys again?"

"What?" asked Sam.

"Don't tell me you've come back to LARP some more," said the man.

"What is 'LARPing'?" asked Dean.

"Remember," said the man, like they were dumb or something. "Live-Action-Role-Play?"

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about," said Dean.

"Oh, come on," said the man. "You were just in here a few months ago. Remember we talked about those Supernatural books where the two guys, Sam and Dean, use fake IDs with rock aliases to hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires."

"You're saying this is a book?" asked Dean.

"We've been through this already," the man huffed.

"Humor us," said Sam.

"It was a series," said the man. "Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." He walked over to a table labeled 'Bargain Bin.' "You know, you're lucky I just got a new shipment in. You cleaned me out the last time you were here."

Sam thought quickly. "Well, our motel room was robbed a couple weeks back, so we came back here. They turned out to be real good, and we'd like to get a new set."

The man handed Dean a book. "That's the first one."

Dean read the cover of the book. "Supernatural by Carver Edlund." He flipped the book over and read the back cover. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." Dean's eyes widened.

Sam jerked to attention, snatching the book. "Give me that." He looked down at the book and back up at the man. "We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got."

* * *

Sam and Dean piled the books onto the bed, sorting through them to put them in order.

"Well, what now?" asked Dean.

"Uh, now we read," said Sam.

Together, they sat down and read the books. They made it all the way until "Route 666," and picked up "Nightmare."

"Well, now we're in unchartered territory," said Dean.

"Just read," said Sam.

They both read it. Sam was astonished that he was going to develop telekinesis. They made their way through the books, pausing every once in a while.

Sam looked up at Dean. "Dad dies?"

Dean was just as stunned. "Making a deal for me, it looks like."

They continued reading.

"Wait, wait, wait," said Sam. "Dad told you to kill me?"

"I don't know, Sam," said Dean. "This hasn't happened yet, remember?"

They continued reading.

Dean threw the current book they were reading across the room. "No, I won't let that happen."

"Dean, there's not much you can do about it," Sam told him. "It's already happened. I'm dead here."

"No, not possible," said Dean.

"Let's just read the next book," Sam consoled him.

They picked up the next one, and this time, it was Sam's turn to throw the book.

"How could you do that, Dean?" said Sam. "How could you just throw away your life like that?"

"Well, obviously, I couldn't live with you dead," said Dean.

"I can't believe you did that," Sam told him.

"Hey, I haven't done anything yet," said Dean.

"Dean, we're in 2009," said Sam. "You've already done it."

They picked up the next book and continued reading.

Dean set the book down, laughing. "Dude, you're girlfriend's, like, a hundred years old."

"Dean, it was for a hunt," said Sam. "It was a distraction, remember?"

"Whatever, you cougar hound," said Dean.

"Shut up," said Sam.

"Aw, look at you. Sticking up for your girlfriend."

"Immature, much?"

Sam and Dean picked up the next book. After a few books, Sam dropped the book, face white.

Dean looked up at him. "What?"

"You died," said Sam. "Blown away."

"Yeah, I know," said Dean. "Finish the book. Maybe you were having a vision. Maybe it was a nightmare. Just keep reading."

They picked the book back up and finished it.

"That son of a bitch," said Dean. "Why can't we kill him? I mean, it can't be that hard."

"Obviously, because he'd just keep killing you if we tried," Sam told him.

They started with the books again.

Dean frowned as they started one. "What the hell is this? It's not about us. It's about a stupid ghost hunting reality show."

"No, it's about us," said Sam.

"What?" asked Dean.

"Read a little further," said Sam. "We show up near the beginning…right into the middle of their show."

"Oh," said Dean, sitting down again. They continued reading.

It was Sam's turn to throw the book across the room.

"It can't be like this," said Sam.

"Calm down, Sam," said Dean. "Maybe you found a way to get me out."

"But that was the last book," said Sam. "Obviously, I didn't find a way to get you out of hell, or there would be more books." He opened up his laptop to search some stuff.

Dean picked up "Route 666." "This is freaking insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?"

"You got me," said Sam.

"Everything is in here. I mean, everything. From the racist truck to—to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude." Dean got up and sat down at the table where Sam was. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt." Sam turned the laptop towards Dean, displaying a website listing the books.

"I reiterate. Freaking insane." Dean browsed the site. "Check out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"

"Yeah."

"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this. Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, cliche'd, and overall craptastic.' Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."

"Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better."

"There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls' and…what's a 'slash fan'?"

Sam grimaced. "As in...Sam-Slash-Dean. Together."

Dean looked up at him. "Like, together, together?"

"Yeah."

Dean looked back at the screen. "They do know we're brothers, right?"

"Doesn't seem to matter."

"Oh, come on. That...That's just sick." Dean shut the laptop in disgust. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."

"Ah, that might not be so easy."

"Why not?"

"No tax records, no known address. Looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."

"Somebody's gotta know who he is."

* * *

Sam and Dean walked into the apartment of a woman, who looked kind of confused to see them.

"So you published the 'Supernatural' books?" asked Sam.

"You know I did," said the publisher. "You were already here, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, we know," said Sam. "Uh, we were wondering if you could tell us what Carver Edlund's real name was."

"I already told you," said the publisher. "Chuck Shirley."

"Right, and, uh, what's his address again?" asked Dean.

"Alright, I'll give it to you again," said the publisher. "But only because you guys are such big fans."

* * *

Dean parked the car in front of a somewhat run-down house. The two of them got out of the car and knocked on the door.

A man answered it, looking up at them in surprise. "Sam…Dean…what are you guys doing here? I thought you were on apocalypse duty?"

Sam's eyes widened at that. "Well, we are, but we needed to talk to you."

"Uh, yeah, sure, come on in," said Chuck. He lead them into the living room, which was littered with manuscripts. "What do you need?"

"Uh, we were wondering if you could tell us how you wrote the books," said Dean.

Chuck frowned at them. "You already know."

"We do?" asked Sam.

Chuck started to back away from them. "Yeah, Cas told you, remember, Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas, right," said Dean. "No, we would like to hear it from you."

"I was there when he told you," said Chuck. "What's going on with you guys?"

"Uh, we were kind of in an accident," Sam made up real quick. "Some of our short-term memory is gone."

"Oh, and conveniently, you both suffer from memory problems?" said Chuck. "Wait a minute, I didn't see anything about an accident." His eyes widened. "Oh, my gosh. You two are…you're the ones from 2006, aren't you?"

Dean's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

"Well, I'm a prophet," said Chuck. "I get these visions about you guys and I write them down. A couple days ago, I had one about you guys coming here from 'Route 666.'"

"Oh, well, that explains everything," said Dean. "One thing, who is Cas?"

"Uh…" Chuck muttered. He looked around at the manuscripts on his desk. "Sit down. I'll explain everything."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"What the hell?" muttered Dean as he and Sam left Chuck's house. "That is insane."

"Yeah," breathed Sam.

"What the hell happened to our lives?" said Dean as he got into the Impala. "I mean, it used to be simple hunts, you know, looking for Dad. Now…Now, we got demons and Lucifer and Zachariah on our asses. Not to mention having to save the civilians every other day."

"I know, man," said Sam. "I almost can't believe it. I mean…demon blood?" He cringed. "That can't taste good. What could possibly make me do something like that?"

"I don't know. But, hey…this is a good thing."

"It is?"

"Yeah, maybe, this is why we were sent here. To stop all this from ever happening. We could kill the demon before Dad sells his soul for me, before you die, before I die…the first and last seals will never be broken, Ruby will never get out of hell, and you'll never have to suck bitch blood. Plus, think of all the hunts we can stop before they ever start. We can dig up the stiffs and burn 'em before they ever kill anyone. You can even stop that werewolf from biting Madison. Voila! You got your girlfriend back."

"Dean, she's never met me."

Dean frowned. "Yeah, she has."

"Here. That's how we got together—through the whole werewolf problem. If I stop her from turning into a werewolf, she's not gonna start dating me."

"Oh, yeah. Well, you can still save her."

"Yeah…I can."

"By the way, I think I got us a case," said Dean. "Ghost threw three people off a high-rise here in town."

* * *

"Come on, Sammy!" Dean yelled. He pulled the trigger of his salt gun, dispelling the spirit again.

"Almost got it!" Sam called from the grave. He had reached the coffin and was prying the lid open.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled as the spirit flung him into a tree, knocking his gun away.

"Dean!"

"I'm fine! Keep working!"

Dean grabbed the gun, keeping the spirit at bay as Sam climbed out of the grave. Sam grabbed the tin of salt, pouring it over the bones. He grabbed their can of gasoline, pouring it in also. He placed the can next to the grave, fumbling for his lighter. He was knocked onto the ground by the ghost, dropping the lighter. He also unknowingly kicked the gas can onto its side, the contents slowly spilling into the grave.

Sam got to his hands and knees, searching for the lighter in the grass as Dean grappled with the ghost. He found it near the grave and flicked it open, starting it. As he threw it in, his gaze found the trickling gas. He looked over at the gas can less than three feet away from his face. As the gas lit, Sam's eyes widened. The fire led up to the gas can, making it explode in Sam's face and sending him flying.

"SAMMY!"

* * *

**Meanwhile, across town…**

"Hey, I think I got us a case," Dean told his brother. "Ghost threw three people off a high-rise here in town."

"How do you know it's a ghost?" asked Sam.

"Well, the description from one witness matches a guy who died in 1971," Dean told him.

"Yeah, that's a spirit," said Sam. "Where do we start?"

"We start with sleep," Dean muttered. "Start research tomorrow morning."

The next day, Sam and Dean entered the high rise, approaching the front desk.

"Hello, miss," Dean addressed the secretary. "Agents Simmons and Freeley. We'd like to discuss—"

"I already told you," she said, confused.

Sam stared at her. "What?"

"Yeah, you guys came in yesterday to ask about those three dead people," she told them.

"We did?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, but you looked…different somehow," she said. "Maybe a little younger. And you used different names."

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"Do you happen to have cameras in here?" asked Dean.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, these may be imposters," Sam made up. "We need to see the security footage."

She led them to a small office with TVs. "There you go."

"Thank you," said Sam. She left, and he closed the door. "What do you think, shapeshifters?"

"Let's find out," said Dean.

They sat down and rewound the tapes to yesterday. They watched as two people who looked exactly like them approached the front desk and talked with the secretary. She was right; they did look slightly younger. Sam's doppelganger even had his hair across his forehead like Sam used to. After a moment, they turned towards the camera and left. There was no camera flare.

"Well, that blows the shapeshifter theory out of the water," said Sam.

"Maybe," said Dean. Sam looked at him. "Just 'cause their eyes didn't react to the camera doesn't mean they're not shapeshifters."

"I don't know, Dean," said Sam. "Something's not right here."

"Tell me about it," said Dean.

"No, man, it's…they just don't give off a shapeshifter vibe."

"Well, they gotta be something. As far as I know, we don't have twins."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

They left the office and found the secretary.

"Where did they go when they left?" asked Dean.

"I heard them say something about the library," she told him.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala outside the library, and they walked inside, finding a librarian at the front desk.

"Excuse me," said Sam. "I was wondering if you remember either of us from yesterday."

The blonde twenty-something woman smiled up at Dean. "Well, I remember him."

Sam shook his head. "Of course you do. What did you help him with?"

She frowned. "Ask him."

"Bump on the head," Dean lied easily. "Forgetting a lot of things that happened recently."

"Uh, I got some dead guy's records for him," she said. She pulled some information up on her computer. "Uh, you asked me where he was buried."

"And where is that?" asked Sam.

* * *

Sam and Dean approached the grave, spotting the freshly-disturbed dirt. They noticed scorched grass on one side of the grave.

"Well, whatever they are, they took care of the spirit," said Dean.

Sam walked over to a tree, where specks of white spattered the bark. He put his fingers to it and turned to Dean. "Rock salt."

"Really?" asked Dean.

"Something is way off here."

"Well, I say we find out what."

* * *

Dean came back to the Impala, climbing in. "Got a lead."

"You did?" asked Sam.

"Yep," said Dean. "They dropped a motel receipt…a motel in town."

Dean drove to the motel. By now, it was eleven o'clock. They spotted a black 1967 Chevy Impala in front of one of the rooms.

"You gotta be kidding me," muttered Dean as he parked the Impala. "These guys are trying a little too hard."

They got out and approached the motel room.

"And behind door number one…" Dean whispered as Sam picked the lock.

Sam eased the door open as Dean darted inside, gun aimed. Two double beds sat in the room, each holding someone. Dean headed for his own doppelganger as Sam went for his. They looked at each other, giving a signal. At the same time, they pounced, pulling the shapeshifters into their grips. They wrapped one arm around the chest while pointing their gun at them. The shapeshifters had woken up and were yelling.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" yelled Shapeshifter Dean.

"Dean, what's going on?" asked Shapeshifter Sam.

"I don't know," said Shapeshifter Dean.

Dean flung his counterpart out of the bed and into the middle of the room. Shapeshifter Dean looked up at the Winchesters and froze.

"What the…" he muttered.

"Dean, what is it?" asked Shapeshifter Sam.

"It's us," Shapeshifter Dean told him.

"What do you mean, us?"

"I mean, it's the other us. The ones from here."

"Really?"

"Well, they had to catch up with us sooner or later."

Sam flung his doppelganger over to the other one.

"Sam!" Shapeshifter Dean shouted, rushing to the other's aide. He held onto him as he faced the two guns staring him down. "Look, you do not want to shoot us."

"Really?" said Sam.

"Dean, where are they?" asked Shapeshifter Sam.

Sam frowned as he looked into the other him's face. He was gripping Dean's counterpart's shoulder in a death grip, wide eyes darting back and forth but never really focusing on anything. The skin around his eyes was red and blistered.

"What the…" muttered Sam. "Dean, something's not right here."

"Where do I start?" said Dean.

"Since when are shapeshifters blind?" asked Sam.

Dean glanced over at him while keeping the two in his sights. "What?"

"The one that looks like me…I think he's blind."

Dean looked over at Shapeshifter Sam, spotting the blank stare. "I didn't think shapeshifters could be blind."

"They can't," said Shapeshifter Dean. "He's not a shapeshifter. I'm not a shapeshifter. No one's a shapeshifter here."

"Oh, really?" said Dean. "You guys just happen to look exactly like us, huh?"

"Yeah," said Shapeshifter Dean. "It's hard to explain."

"You better start," said Sam.

"We were headed back from Cape Girardeau after dealing with Cassie," Shapeshifter Dean explained. "We drove through this, like, portal, or something. We found ourselves three years in the future. We kind of…brushed up on everything that's happened since."

"Brushed up?" asked Dean.

"Chuck's books," said Shapeshifter Dean.

"You know his real name?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, we tracked him down and he told us everything the books didn't," said Shapeshifter Dean.

"You talked to him?" asked Dean, looking pissed. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Chuck's number.

"Hey," said Chuck.

"Hey, Chuck," said Dean. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"Um…I think the Impala rocks?" guessed Chuck.

"You didn't happen to meet with two guys who look just like us, did you?" asked Dean.

Chuck hesitated. "Maybe."

"Dammit, Chuck!" said Dean. "And it just slipped your mind?"

"I've been busy, okay?" said Chuck. "It's not easy being a prophet."

"Oh, I bet," said Dean. "So…they really are us?"

"Yeah, I saw it," said Chuck. "They came from 2006."

"Well, thanks for telling us," said Dean. He hung up and looked up at Sam. "Chuck says they're really us…from 2006."

Sam lowered his gun. "Really?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," said Past Dean. Dean lowered his gun also. Past Dean turned towards Past Sam, helping him into a chair. "There…a few more steps." Past Sam reached his arms out behind himself, scrabbling for the armrests of the chair. "Okay, there you go." Past Sam slowly lowered himself into the chair, Past Dean letting him go when he was in the chair.

"What happened to him…me…" stammered Sam.

"Salt and burn gone wrong," said Past Dean.

"Oh, yeah, we saw you took care of that high-rise ghost," said Dean. "It looked like something exploded next to the grave."

Past Sam nodded, staring towards the beds blindly. "Last night…Dean was fighting with the ghost while I was taking care of it. I knocked the gas can over just as I tossed the lighter in. I couldn't move in time. It exploded right in front of my face."

"Huh…that explains it," said Sam.

"Explains what?" asked Dean.

"Last night, I felt this burning across my face suddenly and my vision went white," explained Sam. "But, the next second, everything was fine."

"And you're just now mentioning it?" said Dean, raising his voice.

"Just listen for a second," interrupted Sam. "It's like a scar, right?"

"I don't follow," said Dean.

"Well, with the past changing with them being here…if they get hurt, it affects us, too, right?" said Sam. "I mean, if they get shot in the arm or something, a scar will immediately show up on our arm as if it had always been there, right? 'Cause the past changed. So, when he was hurt, it left me with a kind of scar. Wait a minute…" Sam turned to his other self. "Why aren't I blind, too? I mean, if you got blinded while you were here, how come I can see?"

"Doctor said it was just temporary," said Past Dean. "Like a stunning of his optic nerve. It should heal within the week."

"Wait…" said Dean, coming over to Sam. He was staring intently at Sam's eyes, frowning.

"What?" asked Sam, slightly uncomfortable.

"You kind of have a dark patch around your eyes," said Dean. "Like from a burn."

"I do?" asked Sam. He walked over to the mirror and gazed at his reflection. Sure enough, the skin just around his eyes was darkened slightly from his normal complexion. It hadn't been there before the other day. "I do."

"Well, it's good to know the doctor knew what he was talking about," said Past Dean, looking at Past Sam. "You will get your sight back."

"This is good," said Dean suddenly.

"What's good?" asked Sam.

"This is how we can stop the apocalypse," said Dean. "When they go back, you won't break the last seal."

"And you won't break the first because you won't sell your soul for me," said Sam.

"How can I just let you rot?" said Dean.

"Dean, I won't, because we can stop me from ever dying," said Sam. "Don't you see? They can completely change everything. I won't die, you won't go to hell for me, you won't break the seal, I won't break the seal, Lucifer stays downstairs."

"Trust me, we already figured that out," said Past Dean. "We even figured we could get rid of all the hunts before we even go on them."

"Makes sense," said Sam.

**Anyone got anything they'd like to see before Past Sam and Past Dean go back to 2006?**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sam scooted forward on his feet, hands raised in front of him. He couldn't be completely sure which direction he was pointed, or even where he was headed. He only had a cursory knowledge of how the room was laid out. He'd find out when he ran into something. Speaking of…

"Ow," muttered Sam as his shin hit something solid. By the sound of it and how it felt against his leg, he'd put a guess on it being one of the chairs at the table. He bent down and felt with his hands: yep, the chair.

"Need some help there, Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam wasn't sure which one.

"No, I got it," Sam bit out, frustrated.

If he was at the table, that meant his duffle was in one of the chairs. He felt around for the other chair, finding it on the other side of the table. He quickly found the zipper on the duffel, and opened it.

"Sam—"

"I told you, Dean, I have everything under control," Sam snapped. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he stilled.

"That's my bag," Dean told him gently.

Sam could feel tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes. _Man, I can't even get to my bag by myself._

A bundle of clothes was brought to his chest, and Sam moved his hands to latch onto it. Not wanting the three of them to see him any more vulnerable, Sam quickly turned to the right, where the bathroom was. Sam clutched his clothes to his chest with one hand, holding his other arm out in front of him. In his haste to prove he could still function normally, his foot caught on one of the chair legs, tripping him up. Dropping the clothes, he flung his arms out, but of course couldn't see to grab onto anything. He fell to the floor, thankfully missing any furniture.

Sam's head hit the ground face-first, pain flaring across his skull and nose.

"Sam!" exclaimed Dean. Sam felt hands grab onto his shoulders, trying to help him up.

"Dammit, Dean! I got it!" yelled Sam.

He sat up quickly, feeling the hands instantly leave. He bent over the floor, feeling around for the clothes. He grabbed a pair of pants and reached out, sweeping his hands across the carpet. Another hand bumped into his.

"Just let me do it!" yelled Sam.

He grabbed the rest of the clothes, standing up and reaching out. His hand ran into the wall, and he felt along until he came to a doorway. He hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door. He dropped his clothes on the floor and backed up until he hit the wall. He slid to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and letting himself break down.

* * *

Dean plopped down onto the bed, putting his head in his hands.

"Don't take it personally," said Future Sam. "He's hurt and vulnerable, and he hates feeling that way, believe me. He wants to prove he can still function without your help."

"I know, it's just…" said Dean. "He's my brother. I can't just sit back and let him go through this."

"Give him time, and he'll come around," said Future Sam. "Let him ask you for help."

The sound of falling bottles and a muffled "Dammit!" came from the bathroom.

Dean rolled his eyes. "How do I just sit here?"

"Give him time," repeated Future Sam. "He'll want your help, trust me."

The bathroom door slowly opened. Sam stood in the doorway, staring at the floor in shame.

"Which one of these is the shampoo?" Sam asked, holding up two bottles.

Dean read the labels quickly. "Your right hand."

Sam nodded and quickly shut the door.

"What do you say we head out for breakfast?" asked Future Dean.

"We can't," said Future Sam.

"Why not?" asked Future Dean.

"Because there's four of us," said Future Sam.

"Oh, come on," said Dean. "They'll just think we're twins."

"Exactly," said Future Dean.

"Fine," said Future Sam.

* * *

Sam opened the car door, placing his feet on the pavement. As he stood up, someone appeared next to him, placing their hand on his shoulder.

"Dean?" asked Sam, not wanting to have his brother take care of him.

"No, it's me," he heard his own voice say.

Sam relaxed as Future Sam led him away from the car, closing his door. Sam reached his hand out and clasped onto Future Sam's arm, allowing himself to be led into the diner. As the door opened, Sam's ears were assaulted by the sounds of clinking china and voices talking. They kept walking until Future Sam placed a hand on his chest. Sam stopped and was ushered into a booth. He sat down and scooted in, feeling someone sit next to him. A gentle hand on his arm confirmed it was Future Sam. How he could tell Dean's touch from his own, he had no clue.

"How may I help you?" a woman asked.

Sam suddenly realized he couldn't read the menu. He didn't even have a clue what kind of diner they were at.

"Yes, I'll have the omelet, side of sausage and a coffee," said one of the Deans.

"I'll have the same," said the other.

"And for you?" said the waitress.

There was silence as she waited for Sam to order. Sam's fingers clenched as he stared at the table…at least he thought it was the table.

"French toast, hash browns and coffee," said Future Sam. "For both of us."

"Alright," said the waitress, and Sam heard footsteps away from their table.

"Thanks," said Sam.

"No problem," said Future Sam.

"Alright, what's the plan?" asked a Dean.

"Plan for what?" asked Future Sam.

"Them," Dean answered.

_Future Dean it is, then,_ thought Sam.

"What about them?" asked Future Sam.

"How are they getting home to fix our lives?" asked Future Dean.

"Well, let's let him heal first," said Future Sam, probably pointing at Sam.

"Alright, then what?" asked Future Dean.

"Probably get Cas to send them back," said Future Sam.

"Now, that's Castiel—the angel, right?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," said Future Dean.

"Alright, here you go," said the waitress. Plates clinked as they were set on the table. "Enjoy." She walked away.

"Plate right in front of you," Future Sam told him, swiping Sam's hand across the table. "Coffee at two o'clock. Syrup at twelve o'clock. Silverware to the right of the plate."

"Thanks," said Sam, reaching for the silverware.

They made it through the meal alright until the end, when they were getting up. Future Sam was helping Sam out of the booth when Sam felt a tug on his sleeve.

"No!" warned Future Sam, but it was too late.

There was a crash of glass on the floor, and liquid splashed over Sam's feet. He must have knocked one of their glasses off the table. He could feel the heat creeping across his face as the other patrons clapped. Sam had a brief wondering of why people do that when someone breaks something in a restaurant.

"It's alright," said Dean. "It's okay."

Sam's face burned a little more. "I'll wait by the car." He began making his way out the way he came in.

"Here, I'll help you," said Dean, taking a firm hold of Sam's elbow.

That involuntary, automatic reflex from Dean—the one that always told him to watch out for his little brother—was the final straw for Sam.

Sam yanked his arm out of Dean's grasp, yelling in what he hoped was the direction of his brother's face. "I'm not a kid, Dean! I can do it my damn self!"

There was no response, and Sam could imagine that the three of them were frozen. Sam turned back towards the door, feeling his way out of the restaurant. He remembered that he only took about ten steps to get to the diner, so he headed straight forward, counting. When he reached ten, his knees hit a fender. Sam reached down, relaxing when he recognized the hood of the Impala. He turned and leaned against the hood, waiting for the others.

"Sammy," Sam heard Dean's voice call.

"We ready?" asked Sam.

"Almost," Dean told him. "The other two are still dealing with stuff in there. Let's take a walk."

Sam scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "What?"

"Come on, man," said Dean. "We both need to cool off. Let's take a walk. Five minutes tops."

Sam hung his head. "Fine." He held his hand out, and Dean wordlessly placed it on his own shoulder. They began heading across the parking lot.

* * *

"I'm sorry about that," Dean told the waitress. "My brother just lost his sight a couple days ago, and he's still adjusting."

"It's okay," the waitress told him as she picked up the last of the glass. "I think he scared the other customers more than he did me."

"Yeah, sorry," Dean said, wiping up the last of the cold coffee.

"Don't be," she told him. "It's fine." She headed into the back to dump the glass.

Dean straightened up, putting the soiled napkins on the table and sighing.

"Don't worry," Future Sam told him. "He'll be fine. Give him time."

"I'm trying," said Dean. "But it's hard." He motioned between Future Sam and Dean, who was at the register, paying. "You two may have drifted apart and can leave each other alone…but he's my brother. It's like a reflex for me to protect him."

"I know," Future Sam nodded. He looked over at the Dean at the register. "Believe me, I know." He frowned as Future Dean froze, his gaze on the Impala. The two of them approached him. "What's wrong?"

"Where's Sam?" asked Future Dean.

The other two looked out the window at the Impala to find Sam nowhere near it.

"Did he wander off?" asked Future Sam.

"Guys…" said Dean, pointing into the corner of the parking lot.

They followed his gaze to see Sam walking with someone, his hand on their shoulder. They stared at the man next to Sam.

"Another one?" said Future Dean. "How can there be three of us? Only you two traveled here, right?"

At that moment, the Dean in the parking lot looked back at the diner, locking gazes with the three of them. He smiled wickedly as his eyes flashed bright for a moment.

"Shapeshifter," Dean growled out as he darted out of the diner, the others close behind him. He barreled into the parking lot. "Sam!"

Sam and the shapeshifter stopped, and Sam turned towards Dean. "What?"

"Get back here!" Future Sam called.

"What do they want, Dean?" Sam asked the shapeshifter.

"Who knows," the shapeshifter growled, turning Sam back to their walk. "They can wait."

Dean's eyes widened. Sam thought they were just the future ones. Dean motioned for his future self. "Sam! That's not me!"

Sam stopped and turned. "What?"

"The other you and the two mes are over here," Dean called. He nudged Future Dean. "It's a shapeshifter!"

At the same time Dean yelled that, Future Dean yelled, "Don't go with him!"

As soon as Sam heard their voices at the same time, he turned towards the shapeshifter, eyes widening.

"You're not seriously listening to this?" said the shapeshifter. "He's the shapeshifter!"

* * *

Sam was confused as hell. He had two Dean voices coming from his left, and one Dean voice coming from in front of him. But which one to believe?

"Sam, don't listen to him!" a Dean called from his left. "He's lying!"

"No, he's the liar!" said the Dean in front of him. "Can't you tell it's me, Sammy?"

Confused as hell and not sure how to resolve the problem, Sam pushed Dean away from him and pulled the .45 out of his jeans. He swung the gun up, pointing it back and forth between the voices. "Don't move!"

"Sammy, don't do this," a Dean on his left said. "Put the gun down."

"Yeah, Sammy," said the Dean on his right. "Put the gun down."

"Sam, listen to me," he heard Future Sam say on his left. "You can trust me. The Dean on your right is the shapeshifter."

Sam shifted the gun back and forth. "I wish I could trust you, but I need to see it with my own eyes. And I don't exactly have that luxury, do I?"

"Come on, Sammy," pleaded a Dean on his left. There was something in his voice that was hard to place. "You don't want to hurt anyone."

"Yeah, besides," said the Dean on his right, "like you said, you can't see. You can't really aim at him."

Sam froze at that. Dean would know that Sam was a good enough shot to aim just by hearing someone's voice. Sam suddenly realized what was in the left Dean's voice: anxiety. He knew Sam could shoot and kill any of them. Which meant…

Sam turned the gun towards his right, cocking it. "Wanna bet?" By the silence, Sam could tell he was aimed right at the shapeshifter's heart. "You see, Dean knows that I can aim without my sight. Our dad trained us blindfolded a couple of times. You forgot that little bit."

Sam heard shuffling footsteps of the shapeshifter, and he fired the gun, but the shifter wrapped his arm around Sam, placing a knife at his throat.

"No!" Dean called out.

"Don't move or I slit his throat!" the shifter warned in Dean's voice. Sam could hear the others freeze. "Well, well, well. You figured it out. Nice shot, by the way, Sammy. Right in the heart. Too bad it wasn't silver." The shifter leaned his head towards Sam's ear, taking on a deeper voice. "Start using your head, boy. Didn't Daddy teach you anything?" The shifter leaned his head away. "Now let's have a little fun."

The knife disappeared from Sam's throat.

"No!" Dean yelled, footsteps rushing forward.

Sam felt a stabbing pain slice into his stomach, just above his navel. He jerked in the shifter's arms as the knife was withdrawn. The shifter's arms disappeared, and Sam fell to the ground.

* * *

As the Future Winchesters rushed for the shapeshifter, Dean ran towards Sam. The shifter pulled the knife out of Sam's abdomen, and the other two tackled the shifter, pulling him away from Sam. Sam fell to his knees on the pavement, and Dean fell down next to him, circling his arms around Sam's chest. Sam collapsed into Dean's embrace, breathing heavily.

"No, no, Sammy…" stuttered Dean, grasping at his little brother.

Dean looked down at Sam's stomach, watching the blood seep through the shirt. He placed a hand over Sam's wound, wincing as blood squirted out from under his hand.

"Dean…" Sam whined, clutching at Dean's jacket. "It hurts…"

"I'm gonna fix this," Dean told him. "It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy?" Dean held his little brother closer, putting pressure on the wound. "Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?" Sam laughed a little at that, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. "Sam? Sammy!"

"Dean…" Sam fought out between coughs.

Future Sam and Dean, having killed the shapeshifter, exchanged uneasy glances at the familiarity of what Dean just said. He had said those exact words before…as Sam died in his arms in Cold Oak, South Dakota.

Future Sam stepped forward as Future Dean ran for the Impala. "Hey, he'll be okay."

Dean looked up at him, tears beginning to fall down his face. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I can," Future Sam told him, unbuttoning the bottom of his shirt to expose his lower stomach. A thin scar ran along his skin just above his navel. "He will be fine."

Hope rising in Dean, he held Sam closer. "See, Sammy? You're gonna be okay."

The Impala pulled up to them. Future Sam opened the back door.

"Try and help us, Sam," Dean said as he got to his feet. "I'm sorry about this."

Dean looped his arms under Sam's arms, pulling him to his feet. Sam cried out, and blood poured out of the wound some more. Dean half-dragged, half-carried Sam to the car, pulling him onto the bench seat behind himself. Future Sam closed the door behind them and ran to the passenger seat, climbing in. Future Dean peeled out of the lot and towards their motel room.

Dean cradled Sam's head on his leg with his right hand as his left hand kept pressure on Sam's stomach. "Just hold on, buddy. We're almost there."

"Dean…" Sam whispered, words slurring. "'M cold."

"Sam?" said Dean, pressing on the wound more. "Sammy, don't you give up on me!"

"Not goin' an'where, De…" Sam trailed off, eyes sliding shut. "Jus' cold…"

Dean quickly pulled off his leather jacket, laying it across Sam's torso. "That better? Sammy?"

Sam smiled slightly, eyes still closed. "Mush better…" His head lolled to the side.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, tears falling down his face. There was no response. He looked up at Future Dean. "Faster!"

"Already on it," muttered Future Dean, speedometer hitting one hundred.

In five minutes, they slammed to a stop at their room. Future Sam opened the back door, and Dean got out. He pulled Sam out of the car, pulling one arm around his shoulder. Future Sam took the other arm, and they carried Sam towards the room as Future Dean unlocked the door. They eased Sam onto one of the beds.

"Hurry!" yelled Dean.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Sorry it took so long. Other stories bouncing around in my head, and damn writer's block! Enjoy!**

Sam opened his eyes slowly, blinking off the grogginess he felt. He looked around at his surroundings, but all he saw was darkness. He began hyperventilating as the panic set in.

_Oh, right, I'm blind._

Sam began breathing regularly again.

"Sam?" asked Dean, sounding worried.

Apparently, his panic attack hadn't gone unnoticed.

"You awake?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, reflexively searching for Dean's face in the darkness. "Where are the others?"

Dean paused. "How'd you know they weren't here?"

"I can only hear you," Sam responded, shifting on the bed a little. His breath hitched as the stitches pulled a little.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his voice coming closer.

"I'm good," said Sam, though truth be told, the darkness was getting to him. Anytime he was hurt, Dean was always his anchor. Whenever he woke up, Dean would always be there to offer a smile. Without being able to see Dean, Sam felt alone and abandoned, despite the fact that he knew Dean was on the opposite bed. Sam put his hands to his face, wincing.

"What is it?" asked Dean. Sam could tell he was kneeling next to the bed. "What's wrong?"

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't see you. I only see darkness. You're not there."

Sam prayed Dean would understand, but wasn't sure what he could do about it. Sam suddenly felt hands around his wrists, and his hands were pulled away from his face.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Letting you see me," Dean told him. "But no laughing." Dean pulled Sam's hands further away from him. "This never leaves the room."

Dean brought Sam's hands up, and Sam suddenly felt flesh underneath his fingers. Sam frowned a little as Dean spread Sam's hands across the skin. Sam's fingers brushed through short bristles, and he realized he was touching Dean's face. His mouth dropped open as he drew his hands away slightly. He couldn't believe Dean was actually letting him do this.

"It's okay," Dean reassured.

Sam took a deep breath and reached his hands forward again. His fingertips brushed along Dean's skin, moving up his face. When he reached his hairline, Sam closed his eyes. Sam moved his fingers down Dean's forehead, spanning them across his brow. A picture began to paint itself in Sam's mind. As Sam moved his fingers down, he came across Dean's eyebrows, and his fingers dipped into the wells of Dean's eyes, coming across the skin of Dean's eyelids. A pair of bright green eyes and a prominent brow was added to his mental picture.

Sam moved his thumbs from Dean's forehead and down his long nose, spreading across his cheekbones under his eyes. Sam moved his fingers further down the sides of Dean's face, running across sharp, prickly stubble. Sam's thumbs smoothed over Dean's lips, coming to rest at the prominent chin.

Dean's face bloomed into existence in Sam's mind, becoming clearer by the second. The sandy-blonde hair, the tan skin dotted by faint freckles, the vibrant green eyes, the full lips, and the strong jaw.

Sam smiled a little. "I can see you now."

Sam felt the skin shift under his fingers, dimples appearing on either side of Dean's mouth and lips stretching into thin lines. A cocky, reassuring smile appeared on Dean's face in Sam's mind. The tension disappeared from Sam's body as he watched the smile light up Dean's face. He opened his eyes and gazed up at where his hands rested, imagining Dean's face hovering in front of his blind eyes.

"Thank you," said Sam as he let his hands fall back to the mattress.

"No problem," said Dean. He lifted the blanket away from Sam's body. "What do you say we clean that blood off?"

Sam laughed a little. "Yeah."

Dean stayed back from Sam, despite every instinct yelling at him to help. He knew he had to give Sam his space and a chance to ask for help instead of forcing it on him.

Sam suddenly held out his hand. "Can you help me?"

Dean did a double-take, smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, hang on." Dean pulled the blankets off of Sam's legs, and placed Sam's hand on his shoulder. "Alright, let me know if it hurts."

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders and eased him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He looped Sam's arm over his shoulders and pulled Sam to his feet. At the change in altitude and due to his blood loss, Sam swayed suddenly, and his knees gave out.

"Whoa!" said Dean. He clutched at Sam, keeping him upright. "I got ya. I got ya."

Sam settled as he got his feet under him again. "I'm good."

"You good?"

"Yeah."

Dean supported Sam as he walked with him towards the bathroom. He ushered Sam into the small room, making sure he didn't run into the doorframe. He put the toilet lid down and set Sam carefully on top of it. He helped pull Sam's shirt off and wetted a washcloth. He began rinsing the blood off of Sam's torso, staying away from the bandage. When he was finished, he threw the washcloth into the sink.

"You up to cleaning the rest off on your own?" Dean asked. "I think you only got a little blood down…there."

"Yeah, I think so," said Sam.

Dean turned the faucet in the tub on, filling it up. He set a bar of soap on the corner lip of the tub and laid a large towel on the floor in front of the tub. He turned the water off and turned to Sam.

"Need a little help?" asked Dean.

Sam put a hand to his bandage. "Yeah."

Dean pulled him to his feet, letting him undo his own belt. Dean helped ease Sam's jeans off, making sure he stayed upright. Dean helped Sam step into the tub and eased him onto the edge of the tub, clad only in his boxers.

"You good?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Okay," said Dean. He took Sam's hand and slid it over to the soap. "Here's the soap. I'll put a towel on the toilet seat. And I'll get you some clean clothes. Holler if you get dizzy."

"Got it," said Sam.

Dean pulled a towel out of the cabinet and placed it on the toilet. He walked to the door. "I'm gone now."

"Okay," Sam said.

Dean closed the door and sat on the bed. Ten minutes later, Sam called out. Dean opened the bathroom door to find Sam standing by the tub, dressed in clean clothes.

Sam raised the bottom of the shirt up. "Did I get it all?"

Dean looked at the skin below the bandage. "Yeah, looks like."

"Okay," said Sam, reaching a hand out. Dean grasped his arm, putting his other arm around Sam's shoulders. "Where's my toothbrush?"

"I'll go get it for you, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Okay."

Dean headed for Sam's duffle, pulling his toothbrush and paste out. He headed back to the bathroom, flipping on the second set of lights which hung over the mirror in front of them.

"Ah!" Sam yelled, clutching his hands to his head and doubling over.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, dropping everything as he put his hands on Sam's arms. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts," Sam moaned. His eyes were clamped shut in pain. "Too bright…"

Dean stared at him. "Too bright? You—you can see?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. Turn the damn lights off!"

Dean shut off the switch, turning towards Sam. Sam stood up, opening his eyes.

"Well?" asked Dean.

Sam shook his head. "Only shadows."

"Come on, shut your eyes," said Dean.

Sam clamped his eyes shut as Dean led him through to the room. After settling him on a bed, Dean closed all the shades on the windows and turned off the lights. Dim light filtered through the curtain, creating a twilight look in the room.

"Okay, you're good," said Dean. Sam opened his eyes. "Everything good?"

Sam looked in Dean's general direction. "Yeah. Still shadows."

"Alright, we're headed back to the doctor," said Dean. He headed for his duffel, searching through the top. The motel door opened, sunlight filtering into the room. Sam yelled out, clamping his eyes shut and turning his face away from the door. "Shut the damn door!"

Future Sam and Future Dean hurriedly closed the door, staring at them. Dean rushed over and knelt next to Sam.

"You okay?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," said Sam, sliding his eyes open again. "I'm good."

"What happened?" demanded Future Dean.

"He's starting to see again," said Dean. "You guys wait here."

Per doctor's orders, Dean wrapped some gauze around Sam's head, covering his eyes. They were told to eliminate bright lights when Sam's sight started coming back. Dean helped Sam up, leading him to the Impala.

* * *

"Sam," the nurse called.

Dean helped Sam to follow the nurse, heading through the waiting room. Sam felt nervous as he shuffled forward, sure that everyone was staring.

"Dean seemed to pick up on his uneasiness. "Dude, I'm so jealous."

"Why?" asked Sam.

"You're getting all these moonstruck pity stares from the chicks," Dean said. "Wish I was this popular with the ladies."

Sam laughed, his anxiety fleeing as they reached the exam room. Dean led Sam over to the exam table, and Sam eased himself onto it. Five minutes later, the door opened.

"Hello again, Sam," said Dr. Warner. "When did the photosensitivity kick in?"

"Just five minutes before we headed here," Sam told him. "I could only see shadows."

"Alright, let's take a look," said Dr. Warner.

Sam felt hands at the gauze on his head. Dr. Warner unwrapped the gauze, and Sam waited with his eyes closed.

"Alright, opens your eyes and tell me what you see," said Dr. Warner.

Sam slowly slid his eyelids up, gazing through the dark room. A single light was on, lighting up the room as if it was the sun. Sam squinted, gazing over at the chair by the door. Sam gasped slightly as he looked into the familiar face of his brother. The green eyes, the short-cropped hair, the dimples at his mouth, the cocky smile—which at this moment only resembled an anxious, worried thin line.

Sam smiled. "Dean…"

Dean's eyes lit up as he smiled. "You can see?"

"Yeah."

Dean raised his hand, turning it and extending his middle finger. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sam glared at him, returning the gesture. "This many."

"I'd say that's a yes," laughed Dean.

"Okay, look straight ahead," said Dr. Warner.

He pulled a penlight out of his pocket and held Sam's head still as he shone it in each eye. Sam winced as the light entered his eye. He groaned as he clamped his eyes shut. Dr. Warner did the same to the other eye, with the same results.

"Well, the photosensitivity is expected, but there was a positive pupil response," said Dr. Warner. "That's good. I just have a few small tests to run, but otherwise, you'll be perfectly fine."


	6. Chapter 6

Someone help me! Anyone have an idea for what to do next?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Six

**Special thanks to one of my readers, who gave me part of this idea. I couldn't resist.**

Dean opened the motel door, and Sam froze in his tracks.

"Holy shit…" said Sam.

"What is it?" asked Dean.

"You were right," said Sam. "This is freaky."

Future Sam and Future Dean looked up at Sam from the table. Sam had on sunglasses for the photosensitivity.

"He can see?" asked Future Sam.

"Yep," said Dean. "Almost as good as new."

"Good, we can start researching," said Future Dean.

"Researching what?" asked Sam as he closed the door.

"Our past, your future," said Future Dean. "Come on, let's go over this."

An hour later, they had compiled a list of names, along with the cities, grave locations, and how to get rid of them. The list was, of course, made by Future Sam, so it looked professional. It looked something like this:

**Name.-------------Location--------------------Creature.**

Max Miller-----------Saginaw, Michigan-------------Psychic.

The Benders--------Hibbing, Minnesota-----------People.

Meg Masters---------Chicago, Illinois--------------Demon.

Mordecai Murdoch----Richardson, Texas----------Tulpa.

Dr. Hydecker----------Fitchburg, Wisconsin--------Shtriga

The Merchants--------New Paltz, New York--------Ghost

And on it went through the past five years of the Winchesters' lives. The four of them already knew what each hunt had been like, Dean and Sam having read the books. And now they had a plan…kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon in that woman's nursery in Salvation, Iowa. Now that they knew where it was gonna be, they could catch it off guard and end the whole thing before it got too far…before it could take their dad, before Sam died, before Dean died, before the whole business with the seals got started. Once the demon was dead, they were free to finish up their hunts and leave this hunting life if they wanted.

"So, that's everything?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, looks like," said Future Sam. "I think we got everything."

"Yeah, we did," said Future Dean. "Okay, now how are you two getting back?"

"Well, we were thinking Castiel could send us back," said Sam.

Future Dean shook his head. "No good."

"Why not?" asked Dean.

"Castiel isn't on heaven's payroll anymore," said Future Dean. "Not since he joined us…since he rebelled. He was officially cast out of the VIP club."

"Well, then, what do we do?" asked Sam.

Future Dean looked over at Future Sam.

"Don't look at me," said Future Sam. "I got no clue."

"Great, so now we're stuck here?" asked Dean.

"We're not sure," said Future Dean.

"Well, until we get sure, I'm gonna get a beer," said Dean, heading for the door.

Once Dean opened the door and walked outside, he was yanked off of his feet and down the sidewalk.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as the three of them jumped up, rushing for the door.

They looked around, but there was no Dean in sight…just a smear of blood on the sidewalk.

"What the hell?" said Sam.

"It could only be a few things, having disappeared that fast," said Future Sam. "Demon, angel. But my money's on Lucifer."

"Why would Lucifer want Dean?" asked Sam. "I thought he was after me."

"Well, since me, or rather Michael, is the one that kills Lucifer..." said Future Dean.

"Dammit," muttered Sam.

* * *

Dean came to with a blinding headache, and he raised his head to look at his surroundings. He was in a small, circular room that looked much like a cellar. He was seated in the center of it, and that's when he noticed that he couldn't move. He looked down to see a set of chains tying him to the chair he was in.

"What the hell?" said Dean, frowning.

"Ah, Dean, you're awake."

Dean looked up to see a man standing at the closed door. He was smiling at Dean with cold eyes.

"Who are you?" asked Dean.

The man seemed to frown, but then nodded. "Yes, of course, you haven't met me yet. My name is Lucifer."

Dean's eyes widened. "Lucifer, huh? I thought it was Sam you wanted."

"Well, that's true. But I need to keep you under wraps. Can't have you running off to say 'yes' to Michael, now, can I?"

Dean stared at him. _He thinks I'm the other one. He doesn't know there are four of us. Well, two can play that game._

"You stay the hell away from my brother!"

"Calm down, Dean. You know I wouldn't hurt him. But it has to be your brother. It has to be. You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe deep-fry the planet?"

"Why? Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways—the last perfect handiwork of God? You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, good God. You're not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are you? My stomach's almost out of bile."

"You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created…" Lucifer chuckled, "you. The little…hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you—to love you more than him. And I said, 'Father—I can't.' I said, 'These human beings are flawed, murderous.' And for that…God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me…does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing. And how many of you blame me for it?"

"You're not fooling me. You know that? With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap. I know what you are."

"What am I?"

"You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've squashed my whole life—an ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you is the size of your ego."

Lucifer smiled coldly. "I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye. I'll be seeing you soon." He began to head out of the room.

"You better kill me now!" Dean yelled suddenly, thinking off the top of his head.

Lucifer turned to face him. "Pardon?"

"You better kill me now. Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop."

"I know you won't," said Lucifer, walking towards Dean. "I know you won't say 'yes' to Michael, either. And I know you won't kill Sam. So maybe you're right." He smiled coldly, sending chills down Dean's spine.

* * *

"Come on!" Sam yelled as they rushed out of the Impala. "The GPS in his phone says he's here!"

They headed for a building in the clearing in the woods, creeping along the side. Sam had a saltgun, Future Dean had his .45 loaded with iron rounds, and Future Sam had Ruby's knife; they were ready for anything. As they were sneaking into the empty house, Future Dean suddenly yelled out in pain.

"Dean!" Future Sam yelled. He rushed to Future Dean's side as he collapsed to the ground, still yelling in pain. He was clutching his chest, and grimacing in what looked like horrible pain.

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"It's probably something happening to your Dean," said Future Sam. "Oh, God..." Future Dean stopped yelling and went limp in Future Sam's arms. "No!" Future Dean suddenly disappeared from in front of them. Future Sam looked up at Sam. "That cannot be good."

They rushed for an open door that led down to a basement. They walked down the staircase, looking around. There was an open door that led to a smaller room, and they crept into the room. What they saw froze them in their tracks…

Dean lay bent backwards over the chair he was chained to, eyes staring up at the ceiling unblinkingly. Blood ran from his open mouth, smearing down his chin to combine with the blood on his torso. His chest was torn in the middle, a gaping hole where his heart should have been. Blood pooled on the floor under the chair, still dripping from Dean's cooling corpse.

**Oh, crap! I killed Dean twice!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

"NO!"

Sam threw himself across the room and pulled at Dean's chains, yanking them away from his brother. Sam pulled Dean off of the chair and into his arms, shaking him.

"No, Dean!" sobbed Sam. "Come on, wake up! You can't be dead! You can't be! Please!"

Sam placed his hand on the back of Dean's head, tilting his brother's head up to face him. Dean stared straight ahead, his face beginning to pale. Blood spattered his face, mixing with his now-dark freckles. Tears began falling down Sam's face as he pulled Dean to his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

"Oh, God…" cried Sam. "Dean…" Sam felt a hand on his shoulder.

"We have to go," said Future Sam.

"No!" cried Sam. "I'm not leaving him!"

"We can't help him," said Future Sam. "We have to leave! Now!"

"But he's my—"

"I know. He's mine, too. We can't save him if we stay here. We need help."

Sam looked up at his future self. "Save him?"

"We can save him, but not here," Future Sam insisted. "Let's go!"

Sam looked back down at his brother, clutching at his bloodied jacket. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I promise I'll fix this." Sam carefully laid his brother down on the basement floor, closing his eyes. He let Future Sam pull him to his feet and lead him to the door. Sam turned and took one last look at his dead brother, tears flowing freely now.

"Come on," urged Future Sam.

Sam followed the other him out of the house, hopping into the Impala and peeling away from the house and Dean's body. As Future Sam drove down the highway, Sam sat in the passenger seat, staring at his bloody hands. Future Sam glanced over at his younger self.

"It's gonna be okay," said Future Sam. Sam was silent. "Hey, you with me?" Sam was still silent. "Everything will be okay."

Sam looked up at Future Sam, wet and angry eyes glaring at him. "How can you say that? How can everything be okay with Dean dead? And how can you just sit there, completely fine?"

"I'm not," Future Sam bit off. "But…this isn't the first time Dean has died. I've learned that…in order to survive…I can't afford to break down. And everything will be fine. There has to be a way to save Dean."

Sam stared at him. "But you don't know for sure?" Future Sam just stared at the road ahead. "You don't, do you? You lied to me?"

"I had to get you out of there."

"You mean, away from my brother's dead body?"

"Yes! Okay? We couldn't stick around there any longer. We were already out in the open long enough as it was. We couldn't afford to get caught."

"So we just abandoned my brother to who, or whatever, was about to find us? How could you do that?"

Future Sam looked over at Sam, raising his voice. "Look, I told you we would save Dean, and we will! I cannot let him die, not again!" Future Sam glared back at the road, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Not again…"

Sam watched his older self for a moment. "Thank you."

Future Sam frowned at him. "Why?"

"For showing me that you care. For a moment, I was afraid I'd turned into some heartless dick."

Future Sam laughed a little. "Well, you're welcome."

Sam looked back at the road. "Where we headed?"

"Bobby's," Future Sam answered. "If anyone can help, he can."

* * *

Future Sam banged on the door to Bobby's house, waiting for Bobby to come wheeling to the door and open it. The two Sams were stunned, then, to find Bobby opening the door, **standing** at the threshold to welcome them in.

"Bobby?" asked Future Sam.

"Yeah?" said Bobby.

"You can walk!" said Future Sam.

Bobby looked confusedly down at his legs and back up at the two of them. "So? And by the way, why are there two of you?"

"Yeah, listen," started Sam. "I came from the past, but that's not important right now. We need to save Dean."

Bobby closed his eyes and hung his head. "I thought we were past this."

"Past what?" asked Sam.

"Sam, whichever one is the one from now, you have to come to grips with this," said Bobby.

"With what?" asked Future Sam.

"You can't save your brother," said Bobby. "It's been four years. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"Wait, what?" said Future Sam. "Four years?"

"Yeah," said Bobby. "Dean died four years ago, remember?"

"You remember Dean dying four years ago?" asked Sam.

"Well, of course I do, ya idjit," said Bobby. "I was the one you came to first before your daddy got there."

"Listen, Bobby," said Future Sam. "Dean didn't die four years ago. Not until today."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dean and I came from the year 2006," Sam explained. "Lucifer kidnapped my Dean, thinking it was his Dean, and killed him. That's when his Dean disappeared…like he'd never been there in the first place."

"So, you're saying...the devil...screwed up the timeline?" asked Bobby.

"Yes," said both Sams.

Bobby stepped back from the doorway. "Come on in." Future Sam and Sam entered the house and walked into the living room. "Alright, now. Start from the beginning."

* * *

"And that's when we headed to your house," finished Sam.

"Boys, I don't know what to tell ya," said Bobby. "I don't think there's anything that'll help Dean."

"Well, we have to do something!" said Sam. "I mean, we can't just leave him like that!"

"What do you suggest?" asked Bobby.

"Castiel," said Sam.

"He can't bring Dean back," said Future Sam. "He's out of the fold now, remember?"

"Well, we can try!" said Sam. "Maybe he'll know what to do!"

Future Sam sighed. "Fine." He pulled out his cell phone, looking for Castiel's number to let them know where they were, but something was wrong. "Huh."

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"I can't find Castiel's number," Future Sam told him.

"Who's Castiel?" asked Bobby.

Future Sam put his phone away, nodding. "Of course. With Dean dead, the seals never got started, and the angels never raised Dean, so they wouldn't have come down here. We're on our own."

"Dammit!" yelled Sam. He paced across the living room and back, head swimming. "Isn't there anything else we can try?" He looked over at Future Sam. "I mean…maybe…"

"No," said Future Sam adamantly.

"But if we just—"

"I said no," said Future Sam. "We are **not** making a deal. Not after everything…Dean wouldn't want to be saved like that…Believe me, I know."

"I know, I know," said Sam, sighing. "I just…I'm all out of options. I don't know what to do."

"No, you don't," came a charismatic voice from behind them. They turned to see a middle-aged man in a suit standing in the living room with them, smiling at them. "But I do."

**Ooh, mysterious stranger come to save the day!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

"Who are you?" asked Sam.

"It's Zachariah, the angel," said Future Sam. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, the timeline is a little off down here," said Zachariah. "I thought I'd do you a favor and fix it."

"Do us a favor?" said Future Sam. "Who are you kidding? You just want to fix everything so you can have your apocalypse back."

"Well, yes," answered Zachariah. "But our concerns happen to be the same, so, yes, I'm doing you a favor."

"Why are you really doing this?" asked Future Sam. "I mean, you must know that by saving Dean and sending them back to their time is gonna upset the timeline anyway. You're not gonna get your apocalypse either way. So, why are you really doing this?"

"Destiny," said Zachariah. "No matter what you know, or what you try to change, it's all gonna play out in our favor either way. You can't change your destiny. It's going to happen whether you want it to or not. So I see no problem saving Dean."

"Destiny?" asked Sam. "You really think that our future is still gonna play out? Even when we're gonna do everything we can to stop it? What, there's no such thing as free will?"

"Of course not," said Zachariah. "It's all an illusion. Life plays out exactly the way heaven wants it to, the way it was meant to. You can't change that."

Sam stared at him. "We can try."

"Yes, you can try," said Zachariah. "But you will fail." He smiled. "So…where's your brother?"

Future Sam glared at him. "Where do you think?"

Zachariah nodded. "Ah, yes. No matter." Zachariah snapped his fingers, and Dean's pale and bloody body appeared in the living room in front of them. "I had him the whole time."

Sam frowned. "You did?"

"Yes," Zachariah answered. "I grabbed him shortly after the two of you left. Needed to keep him safe."

"Why didn't you just save him then?" asked Future Sam.

"I needed to explain the situation to you first," said Zachariah. "Don't worry. I'll fix him shortly."

"You'll fix him now," said Sam.

Zachariah sighed. "Very well."

He knelt over Dean's body, placing his hand over Dean's heart. An ethereal, stunning white light shot out of the angel's hand, shooting up in the room. The blood vanished from Dean's clothes as his skin sealed itself. His skin colored, turning from pale to pink. A mass of white light appeared at the ceiling above Dean's body and shot down into Dean's body. Dean's eyes flew open as he inhaled sharply. He flung Zachariah's hand away, his eyes darting back and forth as he sat up.

"Dean!" said Sam, rushing over. He knelt next to his brother, wrapping his arms around him.

"Where is he?" said Dean, tense in Sam's arms.

"Who?" asked Sam, pulling away from Dean and looking at him.

"Lucifer," said Dean. "He was…" His eyes widened. "Where am I?"

"You're at Bobby's," Sam told him. "You, uh…kinda died."

"I did?" asked Dean. He looked around at Future Sam, Bobby and Zachariah. "Then how am I alive? And who is he?" He pointed at the angel.

"That's Zachariah," said Sam. "He's an angel. He brought you back."

Dean looked at Sam, eyebrows raised. "Alright, Sam, very funny. What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything! He really is an angel."

Dean looked over at Zachariah. "It really is him?"

"How else would you come back?" Dean relaxed as he stood up. "What do you remember?"

"I remember waking up in a cellar…with Lucifer. He had a nice little monologue before putting his fist through my chest. Then…lights out." Future Sam huffed in annoyance. "What?"

"Is that the truth or are you masking again?" asked Future Sam.

"Okay, first off, don't get mad at me because that wasn't me; it was future me," said Dean. "And second, it really was lights out this time. Nothing happened."

"His soul didn't have time to go anywhere," said Zachariah.

"Aw, hell," muttered Bobby. They looked over to see him back in his wheelchair. "Thanks a lot, boys."

"Sorry, Bobby," said Sam.

"We'll be fixing that when we head back," said Dean. "You'll be good as new."

"One question," said Future Sam. They all looked at him. "Where's my Dean?" His cell phone rang, and they all watched as he pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"What the hell is going on?" Dean's voice demanded. "Where am I? Where are you?"

Future Sam visibly relaxed. "Dean…You're okay."

"Of course I'm okay," Future Dean barked. "What's going on?"

"Where are you?" asked Future Sam.

"What do you mean, where am I?" said Future Dean. "I'm right where you left me."

Future Sam looked up at Zachariah. "He's at the house where you found him." He indicated Dean.

Zachariah disappeared, and Future Sam listened to the phone.

"Sam, who are you talking—" Future Dean's voice began. "Hey, what the—"

Zachariah suddenly appeared in the room with Future Dean.

"—hell are you doing here?" finished Future Dean. He looked around the room, spotting Dean. "Hey, you found him."

"We found him ten hours ago," said Future Sam, "at the house where you just came from."

Future Dean frowned. "So, what, you knocked me out and ditched me?"

"You disappeared, Dean," said Future Sam.

"Disappeared?"

"Because he died." Future Sam pointed at Dean.

"He died?"

"Yeah."

"He really died?"

"Yes, I died!" said Dean. "Now I'm back. Can we please move on?"

"My thoughts exactly," said Zachariah, approaching them. "I will take you back now."

Sam shot a wide-eyed look at Dean. They both knew the same thing…all the research they needed to change the future was back in the Impala, two states away.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Nine

Zachariah reached his fingers out towards the Winchesters' foreheads.

"Wait!" said Dean. Zachariah looked at him. "I'm not going anywhere without my baby."

Zachariah frowned. "Your baby?"

"My car," clarified Dean.

Zachariah sighed, glaring at Dean before disappearing.

"Quick thinking, Dean," said Future Sam.

Zachariah appeared a moment later. "Your precious car is waiting for you back in your time." He began walking towards the brothers.

Sam and Dean turned towards their future selves.

"Catch ya on the flip side," winked Dean.

Zachariah touched his fingertips to their foreheads, there was a flash of white, and the boys found themselves on the side of the road, about where that time barrier had been.

"Whoa!" said Dean as he swayed, putting a hand on the roof of the Impala. He looked up to see Sam doing the same. "That was a hell of a ride."

"Yeah," said Sam. He looked up at Dean. "You don't think Zachariah went through the Impala, did you?"

Dean gave him a look, and they headed for the trunk. Dean pulled out his keys and unlocked the trunk. He opened the weapons compartment, and they rifled through it.

"Got it," said Sam, pulling out the folder they'd put together.

"Thank God," said Dean. "What's first?"

* * *

Sam and Dean spent the next few months taking down their regular cases, counting down the days until they could kill Yellow-Eyes.

They had arrived in Saginaw, Michigan, in time to save Jim Miller. Unfortunately, Max still shot himself; looks like Dean was right: they were twenty years too late.

They turned the cops onto the hillbilly family.

They found Meg before she killed the two from Lawrence and exorcized her. The real Meg Masters went back home to her little sister in Andover, Massachusetts.

They stopped Craig from putting the Tibetan spirit sigil in that hell house in Richardson, Texas, by stealing that page out of his books.

They caught Dr. Hydecker feeding on the little girl and shot him, saving the kids from the shtriga.

They salted and burned the doll in the Merchant tomb before Melanie Merchant killed the Telescas.

They cleaned out the vampire nest before they could kill Daniel Elkins. They talked to the old hunter, who then loaned them the Colt. It was around that time that they got a phone call.

Dean was driving down the road in Colorado, headed for Iowa, when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dean."

Dean looked over at Sam. "Dad." Sam looked over at him, intrigued.

"What have you boys been up to?" asked John.

"What do you mean?" asked Dean.

"There's been word going around the hunter community that two hunters matching your description taking care of hunts before they even start."

"Uh, yeah, about that," said Dean. "We got a big lead on the demon. Meet us in Salvation, Iowa."

"I'll be right there," said John, hanging up.

"He's meeting us?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," said Dean. "It's time to end this."

* * *

John stared at them, wide-eyed. They were in a two-bed motel room in Salvation, Iowa.

"So, you boys went to the future, and that's where you learned all this?" asked John.

"Yeah," said Dean. "And now we're trying to change that future."

John shook his head in amazement. He looked up at Sam. "You were really drinking demon blood?"

Sam shrugged. "Apparently. Although I can't imagine ever doing it."

"And now this demon—Azazel—is going to be at this woman's house tonight?" asked John.

"Yes," said Sam.

"Then let's get moving," said John, standing.

"Wait, Dad, you can't go," said Dean.

"Why not?" asked John.

"Because we've read the books," said Dean. "We know exactly where they're gonna step and when. We can take care of this."

"I can help," said John. "You can't cut me out of this fight."

"You'll be in it," said Sam. "In about five minutes, they're gonna call, telling you to meet them with the Colt. You're going to bring them a fake Colt to buy time for us to kill the demon." He winced a little as a headache began forming behind his eyes.

John nodded. "Works for me."

"It should," said Dean. "You're the one who came up with the plan in the first place."

"Then what?" asked John.

"Well, after the demon's dead, we can, uh…" began Sam, rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingertips. "We can finish our other hunts, and—gosh—"

"Sam?" asked Dean.

Sam inhaled sharply as he grabbed his head. "My head!"

Dean rushed forward as Sam collapsed to his knees, clutching his head. "Sam!"

Sam watched as his view of the room disappeared in a flash of white, and he found himself looking at a nursery in a house. A woman with black hair in a white nightgown stood at a crib, smiling down at her baby. She left the room, and the clock pinging out a lullaby stopped. A man in a jacket appeared in the room, looking down at the crib with his yellow eyes. He reached his arm out, slicing open his wrist, and dripped blood into the baby's mouth. The nursery door opened, and the woman looked at the man.

"What are you—" she began, heading for the crib.

She was forced up against the wall, sliding up to the ceiling over the crib.

"Rosie!" she called.

Her stomach was sliced open as fire burst across the ceiling.

There was a flash of white, and Sam looked up into Dean's worried face.

"Oh, man," said Sam as he put a hand to his forehead to quell the raging migraine. "Future me wasn't kidding. Those really do hurt."

"It was a vision, wasn't it?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "What did you see?"

"That woman Monica getting killed by the demon," said Sam.

"Okay," said Dean, grateful that it was something they already knew.

"Alright, what now?" asked John. Sam's cell phone began to ring.

Dean looked over at their father. "Showtime."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Ten

Sam answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Sam?" said an unfamiliar female voice.

Already knowing who was there, Sam played along. "Who is this?"

"Think real hard, it'll come to you," she said. "I know I sound a little different. Last time you saw me, I was wearing a pretty little blonde thing."

"Meg," said Sam. "Last time I saw you, you were headed back to hell."

"Guess I'm making a comeback," said Meg. "Let me speak to your father."

"My Dad…I don't know where my Dad is."

"It's time for the grown-ups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him now."

Thinking that was enough of an act, Sam handed the phone to his father.

"This is John."

"Howdy, John, I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who's gonna watch you them choke in their own blood." John clenched his jaw in anger. "Still there, John boy?"

"I'm here."

"Well, that'll be one day soon. Today I'm in Lincoln…visiting an old friend of yours. He wants to say hi."

"John, whatever they do, don't give—" said a voice that John recognized.

"Caleb?" said John. Dean and Sam looked at each other, knowing what was happening but not being able to stop it. "Caleb? You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

"We know you have the Colt, John," said Meg.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said John.

"Oh, okay. So, listen to this."

John suddenly heard the sound of someone gurgling on something. "Caleb? Caleb!"

Dean and Sam looked at each other, knowing Caleb had just died.

"Can you hear that?" said Meg. "That's the sound of your friend dying. Now let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It had casualties."

"I'm gonna kill you, you know that?"

Meg laughed. "Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure. So this is the thing—we're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who's ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved; they'll all die, unless you give us that gun." John sighed. "I'm waiting, Johnny. Better answer before the buzzer."

"Okay."

"Sorry? I didn't quite get that."

"I said okay. I'll bring you the Colt."

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there."

"It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there."

"Meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible. I can't get there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on a plane."

"Oh, then I guess your friends die, don't they? If you do decide to make it, come alone." She hung up.

John handed Sam his phone back. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

John and Sam stood at the trunk of John's truck, putting weapons back in the compartment. Dean drove up in the Impala as John closed the locker and closed the tailgate.

"Did you get it?" asked John as Dean climbed out of the Impala.

Dean took a brown paper bag out of his jacket as he came over to them and handed it to John. John took the fake Colt out of the bag.

"You know this is a trap, don't you?" said Dean. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone. Not to mention, we know that the demons are gonna take you hostage."

"I can handle her," said John. "I got a whole arsenal loaded—holy water, Mandaic amulets…" Dean began to protest that they knew he would get captured anyway. "What's important is killing the demon. Anything else, we can deal with later."

"Dad…" said Dean.

"What?" asked John.

"Promise me something?" said Dean.

"What's that?" asked John.

"This thing goes south, just get the hell out," said Dean. "Don't get yourself killed, alright? You're no good to us dead."

"Same goes for you," said John. "Alright, listen to me." He took the real Colt out of his jacket pocket. "They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of them left. Without them, this gun is useless. You make every shot count."

"Oh, we only need one shot," said Dean.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight," said John. "Now it's here, and I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you boys now. It's your fight, you finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?"

Dean looked at him as Sam nodded. John handed the Colt to Dean, who put it in his jacket pocket.

"We'll see you soon, Dad," said Sam.

John smiled and nodded, looking at Dean. He put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'll see you later." John got into the trunk, and they watched him drive away.

"Later," said Dean.

"You know he won't listen to the whole 'get the hell out' thing, right?" said Sam. "He's still gonna get taken by those demons."

"I know," said Dean. "But I also know that he's gonna be okay. And that we know where they're taking him: Jefferson City. What matters right now is that yellow-eyed son of a bitch."

* * *

Sam and Dean parked the Impala in front of the house and headed to the front door. Dean rang the doorbell.

A man opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, we're here to help you," said Dean as they pulled out their badges. "FBI."

"What's the problem?" asked the man.

"We've received a tip that someone will be stopping by your house to hurt your family sometime tonight," said Sam.

"What?" said the man, frantic. "Why?"

"We're not sure, but we're here to stop him," said Dean. "May we come in?"

The man nodded, letting them in. "What do you need?"

"We need to set up shop in the nursery," said Dean.

"He's after Rosie?" said the man, starting to rush up the stairs.

Sam stopped him. "If you run, he's just going to chase you. We can put an end to this. Please, trust us."

The man looked up at the stairs. "You can really stop him?"

"Yes, we can," said Dean.

The man nodded and let them up the stairs. They entered the nursery, looking down at the crib.

"What's going on?"

They turned to see Monica in the doorway with her husband.

"They're here to help us," said the husband.

"If it makes you feel better, we could set up a camera so you can watch," said Dean.

The husband looked at his daughter. "Yes."

Dean went out to get a camera.

"Don't worry," said Sam. "We won't let anything happen to your daughter. He's never gonna hurt anyone ever again."

Dean returned with the camera, setting it up in the corner of the room, pointed at the crib.

"And now we wait," said Dean.

The two of them sat in the darkest corner of the room, waiting, for about two hours. All of a sudden, the clock stopped. Dean raised the Colt, silently cocking the safety off. A figure appeared next to the door and walked over to the crib, his back facing the Winchesters. Dean silently stood, aiming the Colt at the demon's head. Just as the demon raised his arm over the crib, Dean pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the demon in the head, spraying blood onto the wall behind the crib. The demon spun around, yellow eyes locking onto Dean in shock as blood ran down his neck.

Dean lowered the Colt, sneering at Yellow-Eyes. "That was for our Mom…you son of a bitch."

Yellow-Eyes convulsed as light pulsed in his head around the bullet. As he sparked and convulsed, the light grew dimmer. He collapsed to the floor, eyes losing their yellow. Monica and her husband rushed inside.

"What the—" began the husband. "He just appeared out of thin air! You shot him…in the head…and he didn't…"

"Calm down," said Sam, trying to console them.

"His eyes…" said Monica. "They were…"

Sam nodded. "He was a demon. I know it sounds crazy, but you saw it. This demon came for me and killed my Mom when I was a baby, just as it was coming for Rosie tonight. I'm sorry we lied to you, but you wouldn't have believed us."

Monica came forward and hugged Sam. "Thank you." She then hugged Dean. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," said Dean as Monica picked her daughter up out of the crib. He turned to Sam. "Let's go save Dad."

* * *

Sam and Dean snuck up the stairs of Sunrise Apartments in Jefferson City, Missouri. They made their way to the room, breaking down the door. The two demons tried to attack, but Dean shot both in the leg with the Colt, immobilizing them. They walked into the bedroom, finding their father tied to the bed. Dean began to untie him.

"Wait, Dean," said Sam.

"Sam, we don't have to worry about him being possessed," said Dean. "Yellow-Eyes is dead, remember?"

"It could be another demon," said Sam, pulling out a flask.

"That didn't work in the book," said Dean.

"Because it was Yellow-Eyes."

Sam opened the flask and splashed holy water on their father's chest…nothing. John came to and looked down at his chest in confusion. He looked up at the flask in Sam's hand, realizing.

"Good job, Sam," said John. Dean and Sam untied him, and John sat up. "How'd you boys do?"

Dean smiled. "Demon's a doornail."

John looked up at him. "It's over?"

"Shot him myself," said Dean. "He's dead."

"Alright, what now?" asked John.

"Next stop, killer clown," said Dean. Sam groaned.

"Well done."

The three of them turned to see a man in a trench coat and suit standing in the doorway.

"Who are you?" asked Dean.

"Castiel."

Dean nodded. "The angel, right?"

Castiel nodded. "Excellent work."

"Did it work?" asked Sam.

"Yes," said Castiel. "Lucifer is bound in hell. Your plan worked. Good luck."

"With what?" asked Dean.

"Your lives," said Castiel. "Enjoy it."

With that, he was gone.

* * *

They spent the next three years cleaning up hunts a week before they started. Now, it was late 2009, and Lucifer was still roasting in the pit. They had finished all the hunts their future selves had been on—minus the seals and horsemen—and were at a turning point. The three Winchesters sat in a bar, sharing a beer and deep in discussion.

"What do you think?" asked Sam.

"I think I'm tired," said Dean. "I want to quit." Sam laughed. "What?"

"I never thought I'd ever hear you say that," said Sam.

"Well, it's true," said Dean. "I think I want to settle down. I mean, if Bobby, or someone, calls for help, hell, count me in. But…I think I'm gonna quit looking for trouble. What about you, Dad?"

"I think I'm retiring," said John. "I'm tired of this life. I only got into it to get the thing that killed Mary, and we did. There's nothing in it for me anymore."

"What are your plans?" asked Sam.

"Well…" began John, "I never told you boys this, but there's this woman named Kate Milligan—"

"Oh, yeah, we know," said Dean.

"You know?" asked John.

"About our brother," said Sam. "Adam."

"Now when did you…" began john, but realized when they would have learned that. "Oh."

"In fact, we stopped by Windom couple months back to stop the ghouls from eating them," said Dean. "Didn't really introduce ourselves, though."

"You want to meet them?" asked John. "Officially?"

"Sure," said Dean. "Then I'm headed to Cape Girardeau, Missouri, to hook up with Cassie. What about you, Sammy? Back to Stanford?"

"No," said Sam. Dean and John stared at him. "I mean, I got to experience a normal life for two years. I lived the normal college life every kid gets to live after high school. I just…I'm not that person anymore."

"So, what are your plans?" asked John.

"I think I'm gonna look up Sarah," said Sam. Dean frowned in confusion. "From New York…"

"Oh, that girl with the art…sale…thing," said Dean, trying to think of the right words.

Sam laughed. "Exactly, Dean. The girl with the art sale thing."

"Good idea," said Dean. "You two seemed to get along pretty good."

"We've never met Dean," said Sam.

"Well, not here, but in the books…" said Dean. "You could bump into her at a poetry reading, or whatever geeks do, and invite her to dinner."

"I think I got it handled, Dean," said Sam.

"Well…looks like we're all settling down," said Dean. "Well, most of us."

"I don't think so," said both Sam and John. They all looked at each other in confusion.

"I'm not settling down, not completely," said Sam. "Like you, I'm not searching for hunts, but if someone calls, I'm not gonna say no."

"Same here," said John.

"Well, we'll give each other a call and make it a family outing," said Dean.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, sounds good."

"So…to Windom?" said John.

Dean raised his beer. "To Windom." He took a swig.

Together, the three Winchesters left the bar and got into the Impala, heading towards their other family member and the rest of their lives.

**The End**


End file.
